


The Other Child

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Gen, mentions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In light of receiving a title he does not want, Knoll is forced to think back over his life and his time spent as the Emperor's "Other Child."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Child

Fixing Duessel with as much enmity as a glare could hold, Knoll turned from the expectant faces. He crossed his arms before him in an act of defiance it seemed no one had anticipated. There were murmurs, mutters, whispers…just as they’d always been. Did they think he wasn’t used to that by now? Knoll tells them, without any flowery address, that his prince is the true child of the Emperor, the true heir to the throne. Without him there is no other. However they don’t listen. Damn Duessel, of all the generals to survive it had to be the one who knew. Selena, Glen, the malevolent new Generals, none of them had ever known, it was unlikely they would care either. Emperor Vigarde maintained his reputation with impenetrable net of lies and iron and General Duessel protected it as if the reputation was his own. Yet here Duessel was, ready to point out the damning facts. Ready to discard their beautiful prince in favour of The Other Child…

The Other Child doesn’t want their calls of ‘Prince’, he doesn’t like their reassurances that his parentage doesn’t matter. They lie. Of course it does. It’s mattered his entire life and will never cease to do so. The Other Child will not, and does not want, to be anything but that. To pretend his past was something else would erase so many happy memories.

The Other Child bore resemblance to his father from birth. This was rather awkward for said father who was trying to hush the whole matter up. He had the maid removed and banished to the dreariest parts of the empire where no one would ever believe her. He didn’t dispose of her baby however; who apparently cried very little so didn’t require much silencing. It seemed, despite all danger, Emperor Vigarde was not one to order a baby’s death. Perhaps he kept the infant as a form of reinforcement. Empress Adeline had yet to bear children despite being married for many years.  The Other Child heard many a theory but thought nothing of them. It wasn’t his job to wonder at his own placement, just accept it and do as he was told.

His orders were the ways and piety of monks. Though he was housed in the castle, the Other Child was raised and taught by the priests and clerics of the Great Temple.  Alongside his numbers and letters, he was versed in hymns and prayers. His reading materials were innocent fairy-tales mixed with holy legends. When he grew a little older he began to wonder whether he was forced into this pious life to repent for sins that were not his own. However at a meagre age, he merely drank in all knowledge given to him and followed round the sisters who were his care-givers, running errands with the eagerness his small legs could allow.  His natural affinity for magic arrived at a startlingly young age. At six years old he was taken in front of Father MacGregor, having been caught experimenting with a sister’s Heal Staff. Father McGregor attributed the power to his heroic heritage and informed Duessel of the fact he would train the Other Child as a monk of the temple. The Other Child never saw any reactions to this announcement, for he was distracted by the sight of a certain toddler making trips to and from the temple.

The Other Child was three years old when the prince was born. He did not see him for many years but a steady stream of clerics was always heading to the castle to check on the prince’s, or the Empress’ health. When the prince was four, the Other Child helped prepare the Empress’ funeral, carrying incense and candles about the temple on request. He was not allowed to attend the actual event, but he did not care too greatly. He was let into the Temple Gardens when the service took place, and there were many bright flowers and butterflies to take interest in.

However, by the time he was old enough to learn magic, something far more beautiful than butterflies had entered his life. It proved quite the distraction, even from his exciting new lessons. The little prince was something out of a fairy tale. He was quiet and shy but had a glorious smile when coaxed into laughter. He was as delicate as his mother, fair and lavender haired. He smiled at flowers in the Temple Gardens and carried round with him a stuffed toy resembling a rabbit, decorated with real furs, as his nanny took him for walks. The Other Child would watch him, peeking over the sills of windows, the sleeves of his simple monk’s robes gathering dust upon the ledge. The prince was dressed in simple but richly made smocks topped with ribbons of regal purple. He enjoyed putting flowers in his hair and whimpered when his nanny tried to take them out. If left alone, even for a few moments, she would return to find him a fairy child with a head full of blossoms, pale and magical.  No one could ask for a more perfect little brother, the Other Child thought. He didn’t care that he could only look at him. He was not at all bothered by being hauled back by Sister Audrey and told not to have any contact with the prince. He merely stared blankly as she barked at him before going into the temple library to read.

Apart from his rare glimpses of the prince, books were the Other Child’s sole pleasure. There was a large world outside the Keep, outside the temple, but books were his only way to imagine it. It was through reading he learnt that views outside the temple were very different to those within. As soon as he was old enough to be allowed about unsupervised, he left the temple to go read in the Keep library instead, often skipping his lessons to do so. To run after him was to acknowledge the Other Child’s existence, so he was rarely ever hauled back to the temple   The Keep Library would always be a special place to him, not only because it opened his eyes to logic and reason, but some of his happiest hours were spent sitting by those tall oak shelves. It was in Grado Keep’s library that he first spoke to the prince, not only that, but they been able to act like siblings should, all whilst under their teachers’ noses.

Of course Prince Lyon had never known they were related. He had wandered into the library by himself one afternoon, having given his nanny the slip. He was seven years old when they first met, the Other Child could keep track because he knew their age difference.  He had wandered about the library, touching shelves gingerly with his bandaged hands. He was still beautiful, the Other Child observed as he noticed him approach. This time he wore a purple tunic with sleeves that were far too big, he kept losing his hands in them, and when he found them again, he cringed at having to grip the material tight. How he had hurt his hands on that occasion, the Other Child never found out. However he remembered vividly how the little prince of Grado and come up to him and asked:

“Are you a monk?” His tone was quiet and apologetic. The Other Child did not know what he had to apologise for.

“Not yet,” he replied, “I’m in training.”

“Do you know magic?” The prince asked. The slight note of eagerness in his voice was intriguing.

“A bit, but they are teaching it to me very slowly,” The Other Child explained, “Do you like magic?”

The little prince nodded. He fiddled with his sleeves and looked at Knoll’s book.

“Can…can I read with you?” he stammered, “No one will read with me outside lessons and they don’t let me read stories.”

“Of course.”  The Other Child didn’t move for a moment in his surprise that the prince wished to associate with him. In hindsight, he would later reason that he was the only child in the library except the prince, so the association was only natural. At the time however, he felt honoured when he finally came to his senses.  He moved to one side, shifting the cushions he’d been sitting on so they could be comfortable. The little prince settled beside him.

“Let’s go back to the beginning,” The Other Child told him, “It’s a very good tale.”

As harmlessly as it began, it continued for months on end. The Other Child could not believe his luck. The prince was a very intelligent reader for his age, and they wiled away all the hours they could ensconced in the Keep Library, reading tale after tale. They smiled together at the happy endings and frowned at the imagined wrongs.  Sometimes the Other Child read, sometimes he helped guide the little prince through the trickier vocabulary. Prince Lyon was a fast learner, so soon words that he stumbled over became easy and the Other Child couldn’t help but feel proud.

 Frequently the little prince brought food with him, explaining to the Other Child:

“Your tummy always makes the gurgle-wurgle noise. I don’t think they give monks enough food.”

The prince seemed to have no end to his supply of honeyed delights and little cakes. As the winter months crept in, he walked round in a cocoon of furs and blankets, which he shared with the Other Child as he shivered in his robes.  The Other Child believed the prince never had want of anything until one afternoon deep into the winter. Prince Lyon was dressed finer than per usual. He shuffled into the library, panting and out of breath having escaped his nurse. The Other Child thought his nanny must not try very hard. She probably knew where he was headed and thought nothing bad would come of an interest in books. As the little prince drew closer, the Other Child noticed he had been crying. He was very pink around the eyes and he was still sniffling into his fur collar.

“What’s the matter your highness?” the Other Child asked as the prince sat beside him and huddled close to his side. He buried his little hands in the Other Child’s robes and leant his head against his shoulder.

“I was told I could see Father today,” the prince sniffled, “But…but when I was ready to go see him, a messenger came and said my father was too busy to see me and we would have to meet another time. The nanny asked when and…and the messenger said Father was very busy and I would probably not see him until the days get lighter.”

“I’m sure you’ll see him before then,” replied the Other Child. The prince shook his head.

“Father is always too busy to see me. We don’t have food together. He doesn’t talk to me. Father is too important to love me so he never will see me.”

“He does-“ The little prince interrupted him.

“Please, do not say what other people say,” he said, tears welling in his eyes, “I know.. I know they are lies.”

The Other Child hesitated for a moment. He wanted to comfort Prince Lyon but it seemed improper to do so. On top of that, he wasn’t exactly sure how. He awkwardly placed a hand on the prince’s shoulder. No sooner had he done so, than the prince burst into tears. He withdrew his hand as if bitten.

“No, please,” sobbed the prince, “No…I’m not upset at you… I don’t understand… No one….one has told me how I can be good enough for him… I just want…want him…to be with me…”

The Other Child tried again with a motion he’d seen a mother use on a child brought in for medical care. He tentatively put an arm round the prince and ever so gently brought him closer. The prince proceeded to bury his face in the Other Child’s shoulder and left the older boy to pat him awkwardly on the head. He was fairly sure that was a way you could make people feel better.

“I would never lie to you,” he told the crying prince, “And I know that however busy his Majesty is, he does love you. You are his only son and the last member of family he has. Of course he loves you. Fathers always love their children.”

“Really?” asked the prince, “You think he loves me deep down?”

The Other Child nodded.  It was a horrible pack of lies but he could not bear to see his little brother so distraught.  

“You are much nicer than everyone else,” murmured the prince, “I would be so sad if you weren’t here.”

“I’ll be here whenever you need me,” the Other Child promised. Prince Lyon looked up and gave him a watery smile that made his heart leap into his throat. His prince was adorable.  The sadness in his eyes, a sign of wisdom beyond his years, was something the Other Child knew too well. He would not let his prince take the path of blind obedience and isolation he had been forced to tread. He was an Imperial Prince, he should never have his will squashed like that. The Other Child would gladly take on any guilt and pain to make sure his prince stayed free of such burdens.

Of course such promises are only waiting to be broken.  A week and a half after he promised to never leave his prince’s side, Prince Lyon did not show up to read with him. A guard entered the library and dragged the Other Child in front of General Duessel. The Other Child did not put up much of a fight. He knew whether he struggled or not, this visit was inevitable. From his first sight of the prince, he’d known he’d be punished if he was caught talking to him.  Let them try, he thought as he made to kneel before the general. He would refuse to regret spending time with his prince.  It would later seem rather silly in hindsight. Why should one eleven year old be brought in front of Grado’s most senior general? Why couldn’t one of the sisters just rap him over the hand and tell him not to do it again?

“What are your designs on His Imperial Highness Prince Lyon?” demanded General Duessel. The Other Child looked up at him and said nothing. He merely stared. He had no bad intentions for the prince and therefore he would say nothing. General Duessel didn’t seem to understand his thinking however.

“What have you been discussing with his highness?” he barked, “What have you been teaching him?”

As if on cue a nervous looking mage entered with a stack of books in his arms.  He put them down on a nearby table before bowing and hurrying from the room.  The Other Child watched General Duessel’s as the man walked over to the books and flipped the first one open.

“Those in the Keep Library tell me this is what you have been reading with his highness,” the general informed him. The Other Child could see that for himself. They had read all those books together. There was a moment of silence as General Duessel flipped through each books in turn, he seemed to grow steadily more frustrated the more he saw.

“These are all fairy tales and legends!” he exclaimed, rounding on the Other Child, “Why were you reading these?”

The Other Child did not stop his wide-eyed, blank faced stare, however he did decide to state the obvious for the confused General.

“I am a child sir,  so is his highness. Children read fairy tales. We read them because we like them.”

General Duessel fixed him with a steely glare. He seemed to be thinking hard. The Other Child merely stared back at him, waiting for whatever conclusion the General’s mind led him to. It was going to be wrong whatever it was. General Duessel wouldn’t understand.

“You are distracting Prince Lyon from his studies, attempting to lead him astray and embarrass himself later in front of the court and his father, the Emperor. Is this correct?”

The Other Child thought he might as well explain the situation to this foolish adult. Perhaps he could make Prince Lyon’s life better if this wrong was pointed out? Suddenly emboldened by the fact he could make a difference to his little prince’s misery, he explained:

“No,” he didn’t mince his words, “I made him feel less lonely. If the court and his father, the Emperor spent more time with him, and gave him praise. He would never have needed to talk to me in the first place.”

It was that day that the Other Child truly learnt that adults didn’t want to hear the truth, they wanted to hear what they, in no simpler terms, wanted to hear. General Duessel had been furious at him. He had grabbed him by the robes in an effort to terrify him. When that didn’t work, he tossed him away and stormed about ungrateful bastards and how lucky the Other Child was that his Emperor was so gracious. The Other Child merely listened. He had grown bold in the hope of making his prince’s life better and he wasn’t bothered by the rage of a delusional man.  He would never harm Prince Lyon, so why should he feel bad for trying to when he hadn’t?

“You will be brought before the Emperor,” General Duessel barked, “If you will not admit your guilt to him then he will probably remove your sorry tongue.” 

The Other Child had read that guilty children were often brought before their parents. He wasn’t guilty so he had nothing to be afraid of. He allowed himself to be taken by guards and brought through the corridors of the Keep. He looked about in mild interest. He wasn’t allowed near the Emperor or Prince Lyon, so he hadn’t seen large amounts of the Keep, especially those where the royal family lived. The Keep was a dreary place even in its living quarters. To a child’s eyes it was all stone as far as the eye could see. There were no paintings or tapestries like the temple, the windows were plain arches, unadorned with coloured glass or fancy frames.  Poor Prince Lyon to live as the only figure of beauty in such a place…. Just as the Other Child began to worry that the prince’s chambers were just as lifeless, they stopped outside a grand looking door. General Duessel went inside and left him outside. The guards left.

The Other Child inched closer to the door.  He could have run away but he didn’t see the point. His father was on the other side of that door and he had never seen him before. This was perhaps the only choice he’d get. He could learn whether this man really did love Prince Lyon or not. Perhaps even talk to him. If he was going to have his tongue cut out anyway he might as well use it before it was. He pressed his ear to the door to attempt to hear what General Duessel and the Emperor were saying.

“What is his name?” That was the Emperor. His voice was lower than General Duessel’s.

“Whose name your Majesty?” General Duessel replied.

“The other child’s…” He could hear the strain in his father’s voice.

“I don’t believe he has one my liege.”

The Other Child stood behind the door, his hands clenched in his sleeves. So that was what his father knew him as. Was that his name? Of course he’d wondered. Everyone at the temple had names, people were supposed to have a name once their parents gave them one. If his father called him his other child then that was his name, the idea was simple. The Other Child nodded with his conclusion and continued to listen in on the Emperor’s conversation.

“What manner of child is he?”

“An eerie child your Majesty,” General Duessel responded, “He possesses intelligence and wisdom beyond his years and fixes all that behold him with an unwavering stare. He was unafraid of being reprimanded by Father MacGregor or me, and though we cannot ascertain his intentions with Imperial Prince Lyon, as a bastard, they cannot be anything but malevolent.”

Perhaps the General was trying to use large words to confuse him in case he listened in? Well it wasn’t working, the Other Child thought. He sullenly stared at the door wondering at the stupidity of adults.  Why would he want to hurt Prince Lyon? He was all that was pleasant in this stony world of uncaring adults. Why ruin perfection?

“Bring him in, I will be the one to judge his intentions.”

“Yes your Majesty.”

The Other Child waited with baited breath for the doors to open and General Duessel to return.  He was actually going to see the Emperor. This was his chance to make a difference to Prince Lyon’s life! They were going to think him bad regardless so he might as well do something good with this rare opportunity. He straightened his  robes and swept back bits of errant fringe.  He had to stop his prince being lonely once and for all!

General Duessel appeared at the door. Wordlessly he stared at the Other Child before standing back to allow him to pass through. Obediently, the Other Child entered and found himself in an impressive study, far grander than any in the temple, even Father MacGregor’s. He noticed the large bookshelves lining the wall to his left and wondered what important information could be held in those heavy tomes. What kinds of books did an Emperor read? Probably not fairy tales… The Other Child fixed his gaze upon the Emperor himself. He was a very tall adult, with hair the same colour as his own. He looked stern but tired with heavy lines upon his brow. The Other Child couldn’t imagine what it was like to own a whole empire. It must be a lot of work.

“Bow before your Emperor,” ordered General Duessel. The Other Child got down on one knee and bowed, however he didn’t like the fact he couldn’t see the Emperor anymore. When he thought he had looked at the floor long enough, he went back to staring at him. Who knew if he would ever see the man again?

“General Duessel reports that you have been attempting to corrupt my son,” the Emperor said gravely, “Is this correct?”

“No,” The Other Child replied. He heard a loud huff of breath from Duessel but his eyes were fixed upon his father in an unblinking stare, as if he dared look away for a moment he wouldn’t remember what he looked like.

“It has been proved that you have been reading copious amounts of fiction to him. General Duessel believes you are attempting to distract Prince Lyon from his studies and therefore growing into his title.”

“General Duessel is wrong. He expects the worst because I am a bastard and will not believe differently.”

There was another huff before a moment of silence. The Other Child continued to stare at his father, who seemed to be thinking through his announcement. He rested his hands upon his desk and narrowed his eyes at the Other Child, who simply looked straight back.

“Fine,” the Emperor concluded, “I want you to explain the situation and we’ll see how your accounts match.”

The Other Child cleared his throat. Now was his chance!

“About four months ago, his highness Prince Lyon came into the library and looked about. I was the only other child in there so he came up to me and asked if we could read together. I was reading a story at the time and he said no one would ever read stories to him especially out of lessons. He came to the library whenever he was lonely. He was lonely a lot and I was in there a lot, so we read stories together.”

He took a deep breath before ploughing on. Even he could tell this his words were endangering his own health.

“I never told Prince Lyon my heritage. It wasn’t important. What was important was that he was lonely and needed a shoulder to cry on. Your Majesty, I know that I was your mistake and so you will never love or even like me. However Prince Lyon is your son and he cries because he believes you do not love him. It hurts me to see him cry because he is clever and lovely and does not deserve to be ignored. If he wasn’t so lonely, he would never have wanted to talk to me in the first place. I am happy that I allowed him to smile even just for a little while but I would rather he got that from his own father.”

The Emperor and General Duessel stared at the Other Child. He could see the surprise in his father’s expression, even if it passed back to a stoic mask very quickly.

“How dare talk like that to your Emperor?” demanded Duessel. He was about to continue his shouting when the Emperor raised a hand, silencing him instantly.

“You will go back to the temple,” the Emperor addressed the Other Child, “And wait there for my verdict.”

The Other Child nodded. He was rather relieved that the Emperor hadn’t ordered his death immediately, but he still had to wait to find out what he thought of his outburst. The fact he had let him keep talking with no interruptions was odd. Grown up thought they were never wrong and always stopped you pointing out their flaws.  The Emperor was different. Well, he had to be a clever man to be an Emperor and both the Other Child and Prince Lyon were clever, so they had to get it from somewhere. Perhaps he thought different to other adults. Perhaps he saw sense. The Other Child did not quite understand. Neither did he understand why, as soon as he was out of the Emperor’s study, he was dragged into a small room and beaten until he sobbed. He was left on the floor, crying into his bloodied robes. General Duessel was the last to leave the room.

“You will never address his Majesty like that again. You will never have any contact with Imperial Prince Lyon. You will never reveal your heritage to anyone. If I discover you have disobeyed these commands, the law allows me to impart full justice upon you.”

The Other Child merely cried in response. The Emperor hadn’t said this would happen. Why would his Father hurt him now when all he’d done was ignore him before? As soon as he felt well enough he stumbled back towards the temple and collapsed in the healing chambers, hoping someone would do something about his injuries.  Luckily, there was a cleric on hand who didn’t ask questions. The Other Child didn’t think he could have answered if she had.

The following morning, the Other Child received two letters, which was more than he had ever received in his life. He lay on a cot in the healing chambers, quietly sniffling, when a monk came along and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up and found an envelope being offered to him. He took it and the monk departed.  Opening the envelope with shaking hands he read

_Your wisdom is indeed beyond your years. Perhaps a child’s eyes are the most clear, and their manners untrained enough to allow them to speak truths. Your bravery is commendable. I am grateful for your report. There will be no punishment dealt for there has not been a crime performed._

The Other Child stared at the letter on the pillow beside him. He smiled a little through the lingering pain. There was no signature on the letter and he had never seen this handwriting before. However it had to be from his father. His father had said nice things about him. His father hadn’t ordered that punishment yesterday. His father didn’t think he had done anything wrong in being with Prince Lyon and telling him about the prince’s loneliness.

The Other Child wanted to cry but he pulled himself together with all the strength he could muster. He should not attach himself to his father,  that would only end in pain. He was his father’s mistake after all and the Emperor would never want him. He had said that himself, so why did it only make him want to cry more? He carefully tore up the letter, ready for the fire.

Resting only made him reflect more so as soon as he felt strong enough, he went back to the Keep’s library. There he found his second letter, tucked inside the book that he and his prince had only half finished.

_Thank you! I think it was you that did it. I had dinner with my Father last night and he even hugged me before I went to bed! Thank you so very much! You’re the best friend I’ve ever had!_

He still had that letter. Its parchment was now frail and delicate. The childish handwriting was faded and couldn’t be seen unless under direct light. The Other Child lost count of how many times he read that note over the years. His prince had been so happy when he had written it. He had experienced joy, the love of his father, even the notion of friendship, because of the Other Child. The exclamations and the small drawing of a flower on the parchment showed happiness the like of which the Other Child never saw from the prince again. As time went on, this note was the only proof that remained that his months being the prince’s big brother were not just some wishful fantasy.

If only the prince had remembered them. If only the prince had remembered him.

He wasn’t left unsupervised as often after being brought before the Emperor. That meant he couldn’t go to the Keep Library and had to content himself with the biased knowledge of the temple. The more he forced himself to go along with the temple’s teachings, the more his thoughts disobeyed. He couldn’t take ‘the gods say so’ as a reason anymore. It was just like General Duessel saying he was evil just because he was a bastard. There was no logic between the two statements, no evidence. How and when did the gods say so? Who heard them say it? Could they be trusted?  So many religious teachings just seemed to be there to keep everyone under control.  Also how did light magic work? The gods were here actively blasting people, so how did they give the magic to humanity? Why did they do it? There was nothing stopping people using light magic to murder.

His lack of faith didn’t go unnoticed. He was brought before Father MacGregor one afternoon, a year or so after he had lost all contact with his beloved prince.

“I’ve received several disappointing reports from your tutors,” he informed the Other Child, pacing back and forth behind his desk.

“It seems you have been squandering the blessing placed upon you. You showed talent with magic at a very early age, and whilst your staff work is extraordinary, your offensive magic has been severely lacking. As you should know, the strength of your light magic is based on that of your faith. So, child, why have you been losing conviction in your beliefs?”

He didn’t make demands like General Duessel. His voice was a lot calmer, serene in fact, but that only made him scarier when he was angry. He wasn’t angry right now, but the Other Child knew he was going to be.

“I don’t think believing in the gods is very logical sir,” he replied. Father MacGregor’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his hat.

“Logical?” he asked, “Explain yourself.”

“I accept that faith is a very comforting thing to have, but it doesn’t make any sense. Since the heroes that saved us from the Demon King, there have been no sightings of the gods, no miracles, no evidence that they exist.  Also, how could the gods give us light magic when we are born, how can they know we’re not going to use it for evil purposes? There is nothing stopping people using it for evil, so how can it be drawing on the god’s power. Faith dictates that the gods do not approve of evil.”

“It is very normal for those at your age to start doubting their beliefs,” Father MacGregor was being patient with him, but his smile was very patronising.

“You have been reading heretical works in the Keep library and it has tainted your mind. Stay here in the temple and you will be well again.”

The Other Child couldn’t agree.

“I read a text by Father Iriste, someone who used to run this temple hundreds of years ago. He put forward the idea that the gods abandoned Magvel long ago, in disappointment that humans were too inept to rid the world of primal evil even after their blessings. He also argued that dark magic is now the magic of humankind, as we earned it. Grado did not wield light magic perhaps that is why I have little skill with it.”

“Father Iriste was burned at the stake by his apprentices for his heresy,” Father MacGregor reminded him, “Do not speak of the dark arts within this temple. That is the path which leads to catastrophe.”

“You said I should accept the blessing of my heritage,” the Other Child protested. He had already read what there was to know about dark magic in this temple. From what he had discovered dark mages were not just evil, they were evil because they challenged blind faith, they asked why when they should not. The Other Child knew how irrational hatred was.  He was already hated for something beyond his control. He was curious and he wanted to know why.  Why magic acted the way it was. Why Grado chose to use it over the power of light. How light magic was formed if it could still be used for evil.

“I want to learn dark magic.”

Now Father MacGregor was angry.

“Choose that path and you will never walk in these sacred grounds again!”

“I live in the Keep,” the Other Child pointed out. Not being able to go to the temple anymore was no trouble at all. He’d get to spend all his time in the Keep library instead and that was much better. Also, his prince lived in the Keep. If he spent more time there, perhaps he could see him again without General Duessel knowing?

“A child like you has no hope of being accepted unless they follow the straight and narrow path. Abandoning your studies is here is tantamount to condemning yourself to a life of isolation and sin.”

“I was left to condemnation and isolation before I was even born.” The Other Child felt a giddy sort of excitement well up in his chest. This could be it. His chance to leave the temple and not have to believe in illogical gods anymore!

“Thank you for all that you have taught me Father, but I am going to study better things now.”

He didn’t stop to see Father MacGregor’s reaction. He turned on his heel and sprinted from the room before anyone could think to shout at or beat him.  He ran downstairs and through the main temple, ignoring anyone who called to him to slow down or to listen to them. He started giggling when he left the temple once and for all, however he didn’t dare slow down until he was firmly locked into his little room, where he lay on his cot and began to laugh harder than ever. He had no idea what so funny or why he was so excited his heart was beating this fast. He was free! He could spend all his time in the good library and perhaps get glimpses of his prince! He took out the prince’s note, which he kept in his pocket at all times, and wondered if this was how happy Prince Lyon had felt when he got to spend time with his father.

Life from then on was the best he’d had since the afternoons of fairy tales with his prince. He would spend his days either reading about magic in the library, or running errands about the castle for the guards. They would give him a little money for his troubles and soon he had enough to buy himself a new set of robes to make sure all ties were severed with the temple.  After a little more saving he bought himself his first Flux tome. Dark magic was fascinating. He had never known there was so much to rune lore when in fact it was the entire source of magic. He poured over huge tomes that he struggled to get off their shelves.  When he had made himself a small book fortress he could spend all day learning how if you adjusted one rune in certain spells they could have a whole new meaning to them. This was what the temple should have taught. Prayer was nothing compared to making your own magic.

The prince used the library too. He had a governess now. The Other Child pitied him for she was Sister Audrey, an old tutor of his. Sister Audrey had no idea of imagination and would undoubtedly work the beautiful prince to the bone.  He couldn’t talk to the prince, Sister Audrey knew who he was and would undoubtedly report him to General Duessel. He peeked round shelves and from there he could watch the prince study. He was very clever but like the Other Child, he had more questions than the adults liked to answer. Sister Audrey was often very harsh with him, threatening to report his supposed cheek to his father, threatening him with his father’s disappointment. When he was alone, the prince would look like he was about to cry sometimes as he poured over boring records of taxes and trade agreements. A few times, when he was gone, the Other Child would move the vases of flowers from the window sill belonging to the librarian, onto his desk, in the hopes that would cheer him up when he returned. He never saw if it did, for he was too scared of Sister Audrey recognising him.

After spending long enough in the library, it was impossible not to notice the hooded figures that occasionally came and went. The Other Child didn’t pay them much attention until one day when one of them walked up to him and stole the book he was reading right out of his hands.

“Excuse me,” the Other Child called after him, getting to his feet and hurrying after them, “I was studying that.”

The hooded figure turned to him. He seemed to inspecting him from head to toe.

“How old are you now?”

“I’m fifteen,” replied the Other Child, “However I read much more complicated things than others my age, so I do understand that book.”

“We are aware,” said the figure, “However what we wish to know is the Emperor’s bastard is studying dark magic.”

The Other Child looked about to see if anyone was listening in. Their isolation suddenly gave this theft reason. The man didn’t want the book, he just wanted him away from prying eyes, alone.

“Dark magic makes sense,” the Other Child told him, “It’s logical and explains why magic works, it doesn’t just offer woolly prayers like the temple does. I want to make my own magic, and this research is the way to go.”

“Indeed,” the figure sounded amused, “Why though, do you want to make your own magic? Why is logical magic better? What do you want to achieve?”

“I…” the Other Child faltered for a moment. In truth he hadn’t really thought about why he was so keen to learn magic and make his own.  He was so passionate about it but it didn’t tie into anything else he was passionate about. Or did it?

“I want to be able to…protect his highness,” Knoll concluded, slowly gaining confidence in the idea.

“I want to have the power to protect his highness, to be accepted at Prince Lyon’s side and make sure no harm comes to him.” The more he said it, the more he liked the idea.

“The Emperor will not let you be by his son’s side. Not after what happened to the Empress.”

“The Empress?” The Other Child had been about to object that the Emperor favoured people with great might whatever background they came from, however the mention of Empress cast all thoughts of elevation from his mind.

“Ah, you don’t know,” laughed the figure, “They really are cruel, hiding that from you.”

“Hiding what from me?” demanded the Other Child. The figure continued to laugh.

“What is your name small shaman?”

“The Emperor called me the Other Child.”

The figure stopped laughing. There was a rustling sound and a single pale hand extended from the man’s cloak. In it was a book with a plain cover. The Other Child took it and opened it. Inside was a single note, the rest of the book was blank.

_“Come to back of the library at ten to find those who also see logic in the dark”_

“If you come, I’ll tell you what you did to the Empress.”

The Other Child merely nodded. Information or no information about the prince’s mother, he wanted to meet others who thought the same as him. He knew there must be more people who had trod this path, there must be to make Father MacGregor condemn him so heartily. Shaman, he looked the name up in as many books as he could. It was a title associated with fear and dread, stories often had an evil shaman who wanted to sacrifice the princess for a ritual. That had to the church putting lies into people’s head. 

He turned up when the book told him to. He got to the keep the notebook and it was soon filled with tea-stains and research notes. When he arrived, he drew the attention of the assembled hooded figures. When the man from before spoke however, they seemed to relax and go back to their reading. The figure from before seemed to be their leader. He took down his hood and revealed himself to be a nobleman in the middle of his years. His indigo hair was tinged with grey and he had a monocle over his left eye. The Other Child stared up at him, waiting for his explanation. He was led to one side.

“You want to know about your involvement with the Empress?”

The Other Child nodded somewhat impatiently.

“Well,” began the nobleman, “The Emperor has done a very good job hiding you from the court, a few people are aware, the generals at the time were well aware of what the Emperor did behind his wife’s back.”

“So how do you know?” asked the Other Child.

“Because I used to be one of said Generals, before I saw the light…well, you know what I mean. The other generals would not have a dark mage in their midst so I graciously took my leave before things turned hideous. Now I have my own force to speak, we only seek the betterment of our great nation, but others are too blinded by their irrational hatred to see the good we do.”

“And the Empress?”

“It took many years for her to discover of your existence. In the end Emperor Vigarde felt so guilty he told her during one of her bouts of illness. She died the following day. He now believes you a token of ill luck and misfortune. Some believe you were responsible for the Empress’ death. The notion is of course ridiculous but so irrational is the notion of hatred.”

“I see.”  This sounded like the truth, so biased were adults that this was some sort of conclusion they would have come to. The Other Child wasn’t hurt by this. He was too used to such hatred. It was absurd to imagine he would harm Prince Lyon’s mother. He cared little for the Empress but he would never hurt his prince like that.

“So, would you like to stay here with us?” offered the nobleman. The Other Child found himself wondering what his name was. His purple hair was enough to show he was a nobleman but he didn’t know who the other Generals were or had been.

“You all study dark magic together?”

“We do, we are a research team who operate only to better the lives of Grado’s citizens. Our methods are unconventional, declared heresy, but we are not anarchists. We only wish to prove there are more methods than belief to help people through trying times.”

“I would like to join your team,” the Other Child didn’t need to think through his response.

The nobleman smiled.

“Then welcome, I will introduce you to the rest. It would be more convenient if you don’t mind my saying, if you came up with a name for yourself.”

“I’ll think of one,” the Other Child promised and allowed himself to be led back to the others.

Choosing a name proved a lot more difficult. His mind kept returning to what Duke Sunis, for that was the nobleman’s name, said about the Empress. Apparently he was an unlucky omen that brought death, considering what he was now doing with the researchers, that was a suitable role for him. He remembered a phrase he once read in a fairy-tale, undoubtedly with his highness. To ring a bell signifying approaching death was to ring a knell. The sound was also called a knoll. Knoll was also a name he had come across in one of his research books.  When he told Duke Sunis that was to be his name, the duke smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

“Suitable for one who dwells in such darkness.”

Dwelling in darkness did not stop him searching for glimpses of his prince however. The prince was an oasis of life and beauty, the only sane source of pleasure in the Other Child’s life. Yet adolescence’s cruel urgings took hold of that one well of happiness and drove him to tears of frustration and hatred. He would not, and could not, dwell upon those times. The Other Child had spent whole days shut in his room, huddled in dusty corners, trying to purge his unworthy mind of thoughts that tainted the angel of Grado, his little brother….  He recited his old prayers more often than he could count and even in adulthood, his thoughts occasionally strayed, leaving him wishing for the redemption never offered to mages like him.

During the day he did see his highness studying in the library. He was incredibly clever and now his tutors had stopped forcing him to wield cumbersome iron weaponry, he had dedicated himself to magic. Of course, he was excellent at it. He didn’t take to it quite as quickly as the Other Child did but he undoubtedly had the natural talent of his bloodline. They were trying to teach him light magic as well, and like the Other Child, he was proving his talent with staves but in belief he was rather lacking. The Other Child’s heart leapt when he thought he could get Duke Sunis to bring the prince into their research team. He approached the duke that night. The Duke thankfully liked his idea.

“Why don’t you try and bring him here? It’s an excuse is it not?”

“I will!”

So the Other Child began his gentle and rather secretive recruitment of the prince. He wasn’t going to steal a tome from his little brother. He had to make him see dark magic wasn’t the thing of horrors his tutors would make it out to be. Prince Lyon was straying to more controversial books about runelore and history.  The Other Child made sure to place the books best for beginners near his usual desk. He also cleared off any he thought would poison the prince’s thoughts, and of course he went and collected flowers from the courtyards and put them on the prince’s desk. Needless to say this made Prince Lyon very confused. However he seemed very grateful for the extra knowledge.

Inevitably he got caught. He was reading in a corner one afternoon when he saw a pair of white boots emerge in his line of sight. He looked up to see his little brother, looking as if he was caught between childhood and adolescence, staring down at him with wide nervous eyes. He looked very small and frail for his age, his pale robes only making him look thinner and quite ill.

“Have you been leaving all those books on my table?” he asked, his voice a conspiratorial whisper for the sake of the library’s peace. The Other Child got up and gave a bow. The prince appeared flustered.

“You don’t have to…just… I wanted to thank you. Everything is a lot easier when you know where to start from.”

“It is indeed your highness.” He was very pretty and looked a great deal like his mother. He had never seen the Empress but there was a portrait of her near her grave.

“Do…do you study this sort of thing?” asked Prince Lyon.

“Yes.” Now was the time.

“A great many people in this library do your highness. We meet in the furthest corner after ten pm each night. You are most welcome to join us.”

The prince looked surprised.

“In this library? I’ve never seen them before.  You must all be very well hidden.”

“We risk condemnation from the clergy for our research. We are however only trying to produce new means to help the people of Grado. Last month, we developed a way to focus the magic of healing staves to certain areas of the body.”

“That sounds very interesting.” The prince was smiling and the Other Child felt happier than he had in a long while.

“I would very much like to come along,” Prince Lyon continued, “If I do…will you teach me how to use Flux tomes? The runes are a little strange to me.”

“I will do so personally if that is what your highness wishes.”

The prince’s smile seemed a little wider now.

“I will see you later then…. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Knoll, your highness.”

“I’ll look forward to our meeting later Knoll.” With that he hurried off back to his desk before his governess noticed he had been gone for too long.

Duke Sunis welcomed the prince, who recognised the ex-General and clearly wondered how he came to be working away in such secrecy. For once Knoll got his own desk, where he saw with the prince and guided him through the basics of dark magic. The last time they had been this close had been when they read fairy tales together.  The prince was a fast learner and they soon moved onto more complex rune lore and how to write their own tomes.”  The Other Child would never forget the moment when the prince gifted his first Flux tome to him as thanks for teaching him how to create it. Even though he integrated himself with the whole group, it was only natural than the prince came to trust him the most. It also helped that he was the closest to the prince in age and therefore became more favourable.

The act of researching in itself became more favourable with his highness about.  Prince Lyon knew a great deal about sealed off rooms and areas no one visited but him. They soon had the opportunity to do more practical experiments.  Their magic had to have helpful applications after all, and how were they to know these worked if they didn’t test them? The Other Child liked a successful result for two main reasons, for one, they could start down a new line of research, two, his prince would always smile and thank him for his help. Even if he had blood on his face, or was carefully burning human body parts, his prince was always overjoyed to have achieved something. Soon Prince Lyon was the head of their research time. The duke had been won over by his passion and charm and his decisions had become the prince’s in reality.

It was due to the research that the Other Child got to see his little brother grow to adulthood. He was always rather frail despite his magic might, and he exhausted easily if he had to run about the castle. The prince did not get any less fair or kind though. Even though they committed numerous atrocities, the Other Child could always see the innocence of the boy he once read to shining through. His eagerness to help people and prove that their magic could be used benevolently was unparalleled by any of them.  He was a breath of fresh air in the gloomy back rooms.

Until they came.

The Other Child did not like the twin heirs of Renais. How could they just swan into his prince’s life and not deal with the wreckage that was their aftermath? Prince Lyon treated them as if they were the gods’ blessing to man. Whenever they did get to see each other it was ‘Eirika did this’ or ‘Ephraim did that’…. It was infuriating!  For every compliment he paid them, there was an insult he paid to himself. They were a drug to him. The more he took of their company, he felt wonderful at the time but then when he crashed, the bitter hatred was enough to drive him to personal injury.  Whenever he mocked himself, he was never very careful with their experimental knives. Being with those two was dangerous to his health! The Other Child explained this to Duke Sunis whilst his highness was on one of his little trips with the twins. The old duke merely chuckled.

“Calm down,” he laughed, “You remind me of myself when my little sister started being courted. Let him go and make new friends. He won’t learn if he doesn’t make a few mistakes.”

The Other Child still didn’t like it. There was no way he would be allowed to talk to the Prince and Princess of Renais so he had to content himself with only being able to deal with what they left in their wake. He comforted his prince in his moments of self-doubt, but even he could see the twins had only made a deep rooted evil burst forth.  He brought his prince hot drinks and blankets for chilly evenings and let him talk to his heart’s content. It did little good. The prince didn’t want his approval; he wanted that of his new-found demi-gods.  It didn’t surprise the Other Child at all that his prince’s temperament changed their leaving. Well, that was a trying time for many reasons, but the absence of his so-called friends didn’t help. During their visits the Other Child found himself reading his precious note a lot.  _Thank you so very much! You’re the best friend I’ve ever had!_  He was the prince’s best friend first. At least he would never forget that. He tried to distract his prince from his misery by throwing himself more heartily into their research around the Sacred Stone of Grado. Prince Lyon reluctantly followed until the fateful day when their father was too ill to rise from his bed in the morning. Then their research became the most vital work in this castle. Prince Lyon was driven frantic. Meals and sleep were forgotten as he worked tirelessly, grasping at fragile hopes, and throwing himself at projects the Other Child knew would not succeed but did not have the heart to say so.

The Emperor, his father, was dying. The Other Child didn’t really know how to feel about that. They had only ever talked once. Perhaps he should be sad for the Emperor but the Other Child pitied Prince Lyon the most. He would have to ascend to Emperor with a head full of doubts left behind by those awful twins. It would be torture. The Other Child put every effort into helping his prince, staying up equally as much, forgoing his own meals and helping the prince when he fell asleep at his desk, or upon the apparatus. He had formed a pile of blankets and cushions in the corner of their workspace. He would carefully move the prince there and carry on where he left off. For Prince Lyon’s sake, he would save their father, even if all seemed increasingly hopeless.

He often journeyed with Lyon to his father’s bedside, being his “most trusted researcher.” (Those were his prince’s words and he had been overjoyed to hear them.) General Duessel was often there and he would stare at the Other Child occasionally as if challenging him to harm the Emperor. However he could not say anything in front of Prince Lyon, so the Other Child remained without being scolded as the Emperor’s health only got worse and worse.

One evening, when Prince Lyon had rushed off to get something, unable due its proximity to their apparatus to just send someone for it, the Other Child was left alone at his father’s bedside. He had offered to run the errand for his prince, but Prince Lyon had refused and gone to get it himself The Other Child wondered if he went simply to be alone for a while. He had not seen the prince cry. He was probably taking this opportunity to do so.

He took Prince Lyon’s seat beside his father and watched as the Emperor turned slightly, breathing feebly into his pillows. He looked up at the Other Child, who drew his hood down. Though the Emperor’s hair was paler with age, their hair was still almost identical in hue and the family resemblance was obvious if you knew where to look.

“Your Majesty, do you remember who I am?”

The Emperor exhaled shakily and fixed him with a weak stare.

“You’re…the other child.  You’re still here.” He sounded almost surprised.

“I am here as long as Prince Lyon needs me,” the Other Child replied, “My place has always been at his side.”

“I’m…glad.” The Emperor gave a horrid gasp. There was a moment of silence as he seemed to struggle for breath before giving a raspy sigh. The Other Child merely watched. There was nothing he could do. A Heal Staff would put too much pressure upon his body, it could kill him. He didn’t need to bring about another royal death if the superstition around the Empress was still believed. Oh yes. Perhaps…

“My name is Knoll,” he said quickly, “I chose it for myself.”

The Emperor said nothing. He was still breathing, which was some relief.  The Other Child contemplated what else to say when Prince Lyon returned. Knoll turned and helped him carry two weighty modified staves over to the desk. When his gaze returned back to the Emperor however, his breathing had stopped.

“Father?” The prince’s cry was heart-breaking. He checked his father’s breathing, his pulse, any and all signs of life.

“Your highness?”

“He’s not dead!” Prince Lyon exclaimed.

“He lives?”

“He’s not dead!” the prince cried again. His hands fisted in his father’s robes. The Other Child moved a little closer. There were still no signs of breathing. The Emperor most definitely seemed to be…

“He’s not leaving me! He’s not! He can’t!” The prince suddenly turned on his heels, his cape hitting the Other Child as he made for the door. The Other Child hastily followed, wondering what had come over his liege. Prince Lyon sounded hysterical as he started chanting ‘He’s not. He’s not’ faster and faster. He wasn’t crying, which seemed remarkable, but it wasn’t shocking enough to remove the pit of dread that begun to form in the Other Child’s stomach. What was his highness doing? Where were they going? He got his answer soon enough.

Everyone knew what happened from then on. His precious little brother, innocent and pure, corrupted and defiled by that fiend. Driven to madness and evil by the cruel taunting in his mind of one he could never hope to win against. The researchers fled from him. Duke Sunis ran away to his distant home, where undoubtedly invading forces got to him. Most of the researchers joined the army, where they were cut down by the twins’ forces. The Other Child remained for as long as he could muster. He waited, praying his old monk’s prayers, for a glimpse of the little brother who so enchanted his heart. However the demon had consumed him. He wasn’t surprised to end up locked away. With Prince Lyon gone, what did he have left to protect? His life had no meaning and therefore what problem was it to have it end?

Of course that Prince of Renais had to get involved, like he always did.  The Other Child did not want to live without his prince. He was fine with his imprisonment but yet the Prince of Renais wanted the whole sorry tale.  The Other Child bit back the accusations he longed to throw at the invader. He allowed himself to be taken to their army. All he could do now for Prince Lyon was save him from his own body. If his soul could find peace then maybe so could the Other Child. He had never wanted to harm his prince. He never wanted to fight his own brother…but he must, for Prince Lyon’s sake.

Prince Knoll was such an ugly name.  Yet that was what they insisted on calling him. Damn General Duessel. Somehow their tactical meeting, which the Other Child had only been invited to because they thought he had more information about his research to share, had turned into a discussion about Grado’s future. The point had been raised that with Prince Lyon gone, Grado’s line would end; there would be no more ‘true power’ in the empire. Of course then General Duessel had to point him out. The man who had hated him because of his heritage and nothing more was suddenly glorifying the fact he was born of his Majesty’s drunken escapades with a chamber maid. The Other Child felt justified in hating the man.  So when General Duessel claimed he had always known ‘Prince Knoll would be suitable for such a role, the Other Child let go of all restraint and firmly let the assembled royalty know his place.

“That, General, is a lie, and we are both aware of that,” he began. The assembled princes and princesses turned to him, surprised by his scathing tone. The Other Child stood up a little straighter, taking down his hood so they could properly see his eyes.

 “I don’t know what I expected from the man who valued his Majesty’s reputation over the lives of his children. The same man who had an eleven year old _beaten_ for reading fairy tales to his little brother. Of course, a childhood of loneliness and isolation was better for his highness than letting him receive companionship from a bastard. Though you would, of course, never explain this to his highness. Instead you allowed him to grow up believing he was incapable of making friends and was hated by all. Self-loathing and injury was much better than letting a bastard look after him, of course…”

“Is this true?” asked Princess Eirika. She was undoubtedly more concerned about Prince Lyon’s treatment than his own but he could make her care.

“Yes,” the Other Child replied, “General Duessel has spent my entire life impressing upon me I am not worthy to be a person, let alone someone worthy to be in the company of a prince who needs them. However I am used to this, such things are forced upon a bastard and he grows to adapt. Now, if you would excuse me, your highnesses, generals and respectable persons, I have a little brother to mourn.”

He swept from the tent before they could call him ‘Prince Knoll’ one more time.


End file.
